


Patrolling

by TellMeNoAgain



Series: So Much Trouble [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Fix-It, M/M, Not Beta Read, Power Imbalance, Pre-Slash, Slow Burn, Underage Masturbation, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21685180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMeNoAgain/pseuds/TellMeNoAgain
Summary: Read at your own risk.~~~Steve is studying the tactical ground, the facts at hand, flipping through the screens like Mr. Stark in the middle of an engineering breakthrough, and Peter is frankly surprised anyone can take in that much information that quickly and make decisions about it, but in short order he says, “Stateside Avengers can handle this.  The rest of you, keep in touch, stay on the channels and clear your schedules.  Spider-Man, Iron Man, Black Widow, Falcon, with me in five, full gear.  Nat, you can fly.  Bruce, we got this, you can just, hold down the fort.”Peter feels like shouting with excitement.  He takes a deep breath instead.“I hope you know what you’re doing,” says Director Fury darkly.“I know my team, sir,” shoots back Steve.  On anyone else it would be a cocky retort.  He makes it sound like a valid threat.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: So Much Trouble [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562707
Comments: 5
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read because I posted before I made friends.
> 
> Let me know if I need more tags or warnings.
> 
> NOT ENDGAME COMPLIANT. (Let's be real here, this AU is barely MCU compliant.)
> 
> For completionists, DEAD DOVE warning, this series is going to be D/s Starker.
> 
> For prudes, these are fictional characters and I've double checked, no one actually has a skeevy real-life relationship as a result of this series, so, like, relax. No one is going to get hurt.

“Avengers Assemble,” comes the alert, and Peter is racing through the hallways to the main room of the Compound, Natasha beside him, both of them already winded from the start of their oh-God-why-are-we-awake morning workout. Steve is there, and Sam, and Mr. Stark enters just behind them with Bruce, from the lab. Holos pop up around the room from the others, and Fury snarls, “This motherfucker right here,” and there’s a video on the screen of a human with prosthetics throwing around some serious architecture, “is calling himself Doctor Octopus and he is damaging my chill, do something about it.”

There’s a pause and then the Captain says, “We’re going to need more intel than that.” It’s almost painful how politely he says it, as the man on the video starts chucking pieces of some warehouse into the ocean.

“Transmitting,” snarls Fury, and suddenly there are fifteen screens loaded with facts and FRIDAY is apologizing, “Sorry, team, I had to scrub a couple of viruses from the incoming packet.”

Fury looks like he’s going to pop a vein, but Mr. Stark gives a short laugh. 

Steve is studying the tactical ground, the facts at hand, flipping through the screens like Mr. Stark in the middle of an engineering breakthrough, and Peter is frankly surprised anyone can take in that much information that quickly and make decisions about it, but in short order he says, “Stateside Avengers can handle this. The rest of you, keep in touch, stay on the channels and clear your schedules. Spider-Man, Iron Man, Black Widow, Falcon, with me in five, full gear. Nat, you can fly. Bruce, we got this, you can just, hold down the fort.”

Peter feels like shouting with excitement. He takes a deep breath instead.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” says Director Fury darkly.

“I know my team, sir,” shoots back Steve. On anyone else it would be a cocky retort. He makes it sound like a valid threat.

  
~~~  
  


When they arrive, SHIELD is swarming around the place and from the way they're already evacuating to medical, it's obvious why the Avengers were called in. The Captain sends them out, Widow to the lower left, Spidey to the middle right, Tony and Falcon up high, and himself straight down the center. The guy is seriously freaking out, the warehouse has almost been completely demolished. It’s not Hulk’s level of destruction, but it’s not half bad. 

Peter's first move is to slap the guy with a bunch of self-sticky webbing at the tips of his mechanical arms, and when, sure enough, the guy’s arms try to rip it off, they stick together and give the Captain time to get a few good slams in with the shield. Iron Man shoots a few energy bursts, but Peter can tell he doesn’t want to mangle the tech, it’s like a knee jerk fascination with Tony.

Then things, well, they start to get _complicated_.  Falcon is everywhere and Peter can only think of the moment- Vision’s friendly fire- at the airport- War Machine- and it makes his heart race. He's not doing a great job of assisting because his spidersenses are over-extended, but he can't get enough focus to pull them back tight to his skin. He's reminded of the airport, again, and thinks maybe he hasn't learned anything in the last few years, but at least at the airport, they'd all split off to have, like, mini-fights. He's just getting in everyone's way, it feels like, as he dodges blasts from the Iron Man suit and shots from Natasha's gun and chunks of masonry.

In the end, Iron Man provides enough cover, and Cap and Falcon enough distraction, for Natasha to slide in close. She jabs her fists out, and the Widow’s Bites overload the guy’s circuits. SHIELD swoops in second later, securing him with what appear to be steel cuffs made-to-size for the appendages, which is just _not possible_. One agent literally makes shooing motions at Natasha. Peter expects a death, right then, but Natasha laughs and heads for the Quinjet. Peter follows feeling very strange.


	2. Chapter 2

Six hours after the call to assemble came in, Peter is laying on the floor of the Quinjet frankly sick to his stomach. “You ok, kid?” asks Mr. Stark, amused, face mask retreating.

“Yeah, just fine, Mr. Stark,” says Peter. “Just, teamwork, crazy supervillain, it’s way harder than like, you know, standard mugging, jewelry theft, that kind of thing.”

The Captain says, “You handled yourself well out there.”

“No, yeah, I just, the math got tricky because I had to stay out of everybody’s way, with the webs, that’s all,” says Peter, shrugging.

“More training,” Nat tells him, sliding down to lay next to him on the floor, bumping her shoulder into his. “I keep telling you, the hard part is making sure you don’t zig when you should zag.”

Peter nods complete agreement, bumping his shoulder against hers in thanks.

“Uh, ok,” calls Falcon from the cockpit. “I think you’re probably overthinking it, though.”

“Probably,” sighs Peter, sitting up. Nat sits up with him, and they slide so they’re sitting with their backs to each other for support.

“Have some water,” orders the Captain, tossing him a bottle. “We’ll do a debrief in three hours after I’ve dug through the numbers a little.”

He can’t meet Mr. Stark’s gaze, so he settles for watching the man tap his fingers on his knee, clearly deep in thought. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, they won, that should be enough. Except it’s not, and he doesn’t know how to fix that, it’s never happened before.   
  


~~~

  
The debrief, when it happens, is with the Full Avengers, everyone chiming in on holovid, even Clint, who is clearly in the middle of fixing a shower and looks pained at being forced to stop. They watch the fight, beginning to end, once, and then start it over with Steve stopping at relevant points to talk with the person about judgement calls and tactics. He does it with everyone, but Tony fights him on every suggestion made in his direction even when Peter’s pretty sure Steve is right. He makes a couple of good points about Peter’s hesitation, suggestions for the future about what to do if he needs space.

And then it’s… done. His first mission as an Avenger. There’s paperwork, which he breezes through during the debrief, and then, he’s… done.

He’s sitting on the couch in the common room watching old Mythbusters episodes when Mr. Stark walk in and says, “Hey, good, c’mon, you got your suit?” Peter looks up at him and he swears, there is something about how Mr. Stark looks at him, it’s like he can see through Peter, see every thought in his head, and it leaves him reeling. He’s not the only person with that superpower, Natasha has it, too, and his American history teacher at school could do it, but they are all three of them nothing alike except for the ability to make Peter feel exposed and vulnerable. The moment stretches, until Mr. Stark makes a move like he’s about to repeat himself and Peter stammers, “Y-yes, Mr. Stark. I have my suit.”   
  
“Good. Greatness. Follow me.” And then they’re in the jet and Peter has no idea how this stuff happens but he’s terminally incapable of not following Mr. Stark.


	3. Chapter 3

They land in Queens, on top of a YMCA, which is ridiculous but, again, it’s Mr. Stark, so nothing bad is going to result, the man will probably just buy them a new gym if they complain. It’s dinner time, and Mr. Stark demands, “Best place for a sub, go.”

Peter points and says, “DeMarco’s, down there, that way.”

Mr.Stark takes off and Peter scrambles to keep up. They eat subs, talking about the tensile strength of his latest web fluid and whether it can be bonded to some arrowheads for retired-yeah-sure-Hawkeye. As the summer sun begins to set, Mr. Stark says, “Ok, look, I gotta go to the Tower, Pep has some stuff for me to sign.” Peter’s pretty sure that’s a euphemism, but he can never tell, with Mr. Stark. Sometimes it’s like the man is speaking three languages at the same time and at least one of them, Peter is not experienced enough yet to understand. “You patrol, check in with me every hour, every hour, and I’ll see you at midnight.”

Peter feels his heart raise a little, from the bottom of his stomach where it’s been all day. “Mr.- Mr. Stark?” He asks.

“New York needs you, kid. You, Spider-Man, the guy who is trying to do the right thing and protect people. I told you when we talked about you signing, I’m not going to let you get trapped in your head. Go patrol. Make the world a better place. See you at midnight.” He closes the door to the jet and Peter can see him arguing with air traffic control to take off. 

He texts Aunt May, to get her schedule since apparently they’re in town now, and they coordinate a brunch for the next morning like they’re in the brunch tax bracket now, which makes them both type “lol.” And then he takes a deep breath and starts his patrol. Within two hours, he’s winded and he had new bruises, and he feels awesome. Some asshole had been about to mug a pregnant woman waiting for her train and she’d cheered, “Hey Friendly! Hey Spider-Man!!” when she saw the suit, ignoring how the guy was already grappling her. When he had to guy webbed to an upright at the station, she says, cheerfully, “You went to my same high school, although I’ve been out for like seven years. You’re a good guy. Thank you.” And then she whips out her phone and dials 911. He doesn’t know what to say, so he webs away.   
  
At 10:39, he gets a message from Ned.  _ Dude. Check this headline!  _ with a link to a local news channel.   
  
“Peter Parker Works A Double Shift, Just Like Us!” declares the article. It links to a facebook post by the 107 Precinct, “Hey, Spiderman, thanks for the assist!” with a photo of the drugs he’d liberated from an abandoned apartment earlier in the evening. There’s a heroic-looking shot of him during the Doc Oc mission this afternoon, too, Falcon and Ironman just over his left shoulder and webs slinging from his wrist, off-right. 

_ 107th is rt on the street by my Gram, _ says MJ.  _ You better stop by and leave her a note or I’ll hear about it until Xmas, P. _

_ I can’t, not safe, _ reminds Peter

_ BS, I need to stay on her :) side, do it, _ commands MJ.   
  
So he webs over to give a witness statement to the 107th, which they appreciate in ways that are frankly embarrassing. He tells them about the other things he’s noticed that night- a lot of crimes he busts up just by interrupting, so it’s nothing to really share with them but it feels so good not to have to hide what he’s doing. When he asks for a paper, pen, and envelope, no one even blinks. He drops by MJ’s Gram’s window to slap the nice note on it where she can easily reach it and shoots MJ a photo with  _ Happy now? _

_ Thrilled, _ she responds.

And then it’s almost midnight and he still has to get uptown, so he plots his route and hits the skies, his heart light in his chest.

~~~

Mr. Stark is waiting on the landing pad of the Avenger’s Tower for him, wearing black silk pajamas and looking- well, Peter’s  _ looking _ , is all. His crush is painfully obvious at the best of times, a constant buzz of adoration in the back of his thoughts, but right now, with the mask covering his face, he just, he looks, and lets himself just appreciate the man’s ability to wear an outfit. The Mr. Stark in the workshop, face furious or focused or lightened with triumph, is his favorite, but he can appreciate the cut of this high-end shirt, too, hugging tightly across Mr. Stark’s shoulders and snug against his waistline. His messed up hair means he was in bed at some recent point.   
  
“So, underoos,” says Mr. Stark, waving him over to the door, “feeling better?”   
  
Peter retracts the mask and says, “Yes.”   
  
Mr. Stark turns to look at him with a piercing glance and Peter holds still a moment to let him read whatever he can find there. He’s doing that particular brand of stare that makes Peter feel shivers down his spine. It’s different but similar to the look Natasha gives him before she tells him to work harder on his agility training than on sounding smart, a kissing cousin to the look Mr. Anderson gave him when he told Peter to stay late and called him to the carpet for deliberately baiting Flash in class discussion that day. Mr. Stark doesn’t say anything like that, though, he just nods.    
  
They walk inside and Mr. Stark says, “I added to your schedule, every other week, three nights in the city patrolling, semi-random so it’s not a pattern. If you can’t make it, fine, if you don’t want to, we’ll talk, but your room is here and I expect you to be, too.”   
  
“I- I don’t, Mr. Stark,” sputters Peter, feeling guilty for some reason, and confused.   
  
“I told you,” says Mr. Stark very firmly, “I’m not letting you get trapped in your own head. You’re good at what you do. Being a part of the Avengers isn’t about changing you into something else. It’s an expansion pack, not a redesign.”

Peter shakes his head and Mr. Stark asks, “Why do I fight back against Cap so hard in debriefs?”   
  
“I-I dunno,” says Peter, after a second. That had been bothering him, now that he thought about it.

“Because he’s always right and I can’t be wrong, Peter, that’s why we fight. And we both know it. He has to be right and I can’t be wrong, and so we butt heads where we have to disagree. A lot.” Mr. Stark doesn’t sound like he regrets the situation at all. In fact, he sounds kind of eager. “Everyone on this team has something like that, something that they do that’s not smart or rational. And for everyone on this team, there’s something that someone else can do to help them get over it.”    
  
“Uh, okay,” says Peter, pouring himself a glass of water and draining it, refilling it.

“You get trapped in your head,” says Mr. Stark. “I can see it, I see it all the time with the young whiz-kid engineers Pep hires. You get trapped in this idea that you can make things perfect, that you need to be perfect, like life is a test you can score 100% on and you intend to get the extra credit points, too. Why didn’t you tell Cap that he was way out of line when he told you your hesitation in your first fight needed to be addressed with additional training?”

“B-because he’s right?” stammers Peter.

“Because you’re convinced you’re faking your competence and someone in charge is going to figure out that you’re faking and kick you off the team,” replies Mr. stark ruthlessly.

“Wh-what? I am- Mr. Stark- th-that’s not-“ Peter sputters himself silent. Mr. Stark continues to stare at him with that penetrating gaze, calm and collected and just slightly fed up.

“So, you’re going to keep coming out with us, and also, run solo patrolling, until you get it through your genius brain that you when you fuck up, and you will, the world is not going to end.”

Peter knows his mouth is gaping open and there are tears smarting in his eyes, but he can’t seem to stop any of it or think of anything to say.

“Yeah,” sighs Mr. Stark. His eyes soften and go a little kind and Peter sways forward in relief. “You’re not the only genius anymore. Bruce and I were also way too smart way too young, and impressive intellect leaves the same scars, I can reverse engineer mine to find yours.”

Peter closes his mouth and shoots Mr. Stark a hard glance. “I’m n-not-“

“Yeah you are,” scoffs Mr. Stark. “So you’re going to listen to me, been there done that, could have used some advice. I’m not asking for anything you don’t want.”

Peter nods, and takes a deep breath to get himself under control again. “Yes, sir, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, about that,” mutters Mr. Stark, and then rolls his eyes. Peter’s confused for a moment and then Mr. Stark pulls him into a hug and says, “I’m glad you feel better, I was hoping it would work. Tell me what you did, here, food, eat.” He releases Peter with a gentle push towards the kitchen.

Peter enjoys the hug, he kind of melts into it, it would be embarrassing but, well, he’s noticed Mr. Stark likes touch from his people- can’t stand being touched by strangers, but likes these small tactile moments. Peter’s pretty good at hugging, he and MJ and Ned still puppypile for movies, and it's not like he's doing anything wrong, using hugs like this to touch Mr. Stark- and he is putting way too much thought into this hug.  _ Way too much thought _ , he thinks darkly. He does that a lot with Mr. Stark.

Mr. Stark is digging in the fridge, and comes out with some fruit and a box of takeout. He opens it and says, “Uh, ravioli, date says three days ago?”

Peter nods and he puts it in the microwave, jabbing at buttons and then turning to say, “So, talk. Tell me about patrol. What did you bust up?”

Peter tells him about the pregnant woman, and the car jackers, and the 107th, and MJ’s grandma. It’s one a.m. when Mr. Stark stands and stretches and says, “Ok, scram, go hit the showers, you know you did good. Brunch with May, then the lab, we’ll pull in Bruce, then dinner, we’re on our own, Pep’ll be on her way to Korea, then patrolling.”

Peter nods. “Thank you, Mr. Stark,” he says softly.

“Yeah, no, I did nothing, kid.” Mr. Stark turns towards their rooms in the Tower.

“I mean, not nothing,” says Peter softly, and it catches Mr. Stark’s attention. He turns back and looks at Peter for a long moment. Peter tried to let his appreciation show on his face, and the moment stretches. Mr. Stark shakes himself and reaches out, ruffles Peter’s hair, and says, “Ok, superhero, don’t worry about getting up at the ass end of dawn, I’m sleeping in. Good night.”

Peter feels like something huge has dissipated into the air, a storm passing silently through the penthouse, and he replies easily, “Night, Mr. Stark.”

~~~

He thinks that night, overthinks, heating up, about those long looks Mr. Stark had given him. He’s some kind of pervert, he figures, and then gives in and slides a hand down to palm himself. No one is ever going to know, he reasons. And it’s not hurting anybody, to think of Mr. Stark in his silk pajamas looking at him sternly and to want- something. Something nebulous, undefined. The way the man had casually re-arranged Peter’s whole life for his own good, there’s something there, it does,  _ something _ . Peter thinks of the look in Mr. Stark’s eyes and lets himself just… go from there. His hands know what to do, stroking just right, but his imagination runs a little wild, taking him through all his favorite scenarios but replacing the nameless nobody with Mr. Stark. No one needs to know, Peter tells himself firmly, and lets it happen.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to pop into the comments with encouragement! I won't handle criticism well, unless you and I have a baseline understanding, so I guess keep that to yourself or tell a friend, whichever one you want to do. Thanks for reading!
> 
> (Also, OMG, FINALLY SOME SMUT. I promise you future chapters will be porntastic, but we have to get Peter to a legal age first. PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE.)


End file.
